


october to april

by uselessphillie



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, an author exposing herself as a big fucking sap, like seriously go see your dentist after reading this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 21:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15128105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uselessphillie/pseuds/uselessphillie
Summary: “Let’s get married,” he says, mildly surprised at the way his voice doesn’t even waver.Dan pauses mid-click, hands hovering over his keyboard. He glances down at Phil, one eyebrow quirked up. “What, like today?”





	october to april

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [katie](https://thoughtfullightcollectionii.tumblr.com) for finally motivating me to get this idea out of my head and onto the page.
> 
> please check out the amazing artwork of this fic [here](https://uselessphillie.tumblr.com/post/175508670365/some-incredible-art-for-my-fic-october-to)

The way Phil reasons it, they’ve made all their best decisions during lazy Sunday mornings in bed.

They sketched out the very first ideas for a world tour here, booked their flights to Japan from here, doodled designs for the set of their _second_ world tour here. Decided that Dan could fight to get off his meds, that Phil’s forehead could see the light of day, that they’d always take turns getting up to make the first cups of coffee in morning.

Why should this decision be any different?

***

Phil warms his skin in the weak mid-morning sun that slants through the kitchen window while he waits for the kettle to boil. The final warm days of autumn are passing quickly now, and Phil aches to hold onto them for a bit longer, to keep himself and Dan wrapped up in the post-tour haze they’ve been existing in for the past month.

It’s unsettling, to be in the _after._ To have closed another chapter in their shared career, in their shared life. Phil curls his bare toes into the cold floor tiles. The whistling of the kettle sounds far away.

Perhaps he should caffeinate before he loses himself thinking about the precipice they’re currently standing at the edge of.

He lets muscle memory dictate coffee and cream into two mugs, a half spoon of sugar into the left one only. The way he’s done pretty much every other day now for the better part of a decade.

Dan’s One Direction mug threatens to spill coffee over its side as Phil makes his way carefully down the steps.

_(a bit lopsided, as usual)_

He pauses in the doorway to their room. Dan is still asleep, buried somewhere under the mountain of their duvet. The tips of his toes peek out from the bottom of the covers, a few long, wild curls from the top. It could be a snapshot of any Sunday morning from years past or years into the future, Phil thinks. One where it’s his turn to get up first and he dribbled a bit of coffee on the stairs and they have nowhere to be except right here.

Or.

Phil very deliberately does not turn to look back in the direction of their office, where he keeps his biggest secret hidden away at the bottom of a box full of miscellaneous and unused electronic cords. Has kept it there for more than a year now, since the word _after_ starting becoming such an integral part of his vocabulary.

Dan stirs, pulling his toes back into the blanket cocoon and extracting one of his arms from it. He flops it down onto Phil’s side of the bed, making a displeased sounding grunt at finding it vacant.

Phil unsticks his feet from the threshold, forcing his body as well as his thoughts away from the office. It’s just a regular Sunday, after all.

He sets both mugs down on his nightstand and crawls back into bed, lifting Dan’s arm up and settling himself under its weight. Dan shifts immediately, nuzzling into the collar of Phil’s t-shirt and nudging a knee between his thighs. Phil allows himself to be manhandled into cuddling position, smiling. The coffees are probably still too hot, anyway.

***

They wake slowly, together.

Phil traces circles and stars and squiggles into the bare skin of Dan’s hip until Dan is squirming under him and saying _okay, I’m up, god, that tickles, Phil._ He leans his body across Phil’s to take a sip out of his too-full mug before pulling it safely over to his side, sitting up against the headboard. Phil watches him absentmindedly twirl a couple curls up and out of his eyes as he sips.

He’s not thinking about the office. Not at all.

He drains his coffee and lays back down as Dan gets up to make the second excursion to the kitchen. He may let his eyes linger on the broad plains of Dan’s back as he rummages in their closet for a jumper, but he certainly isn’t thinking about how they’ve grown together, how they’ve changed together. How they’ll keep changing together.

Dan returns and hands him his second mug of coffee, muscle memory cream and a half spoon of sugar. Dan cradles Zayn and Niall in sweater-pawed hands, the strong scent of green tea filling the room. He warms his toes back up against Phil’s shins.

It’s just Sunday.

***

They don’t work on Sundays, that’s the rule. Dan’s got his Twitter feed open but he’s not staring at his drafts or the black hole of his replies. He’s just scrolling, monologuing various dramas and news and funny snippets out loud in Phil’s general direction. Phil has sunk back down into the abyss of pillows and blankets and Dan-warmed sheets.

He is maybe, possibly, definitely thinking about the office.

Dan pauses his narration for a moment to click into a new tab, googling the truthfulness of a fact Phil had missed the stating of. Phil takes the opportunity to say the words before all the thinking about them can eat him alive.

“Let’s get married,” he says, mildly surprised at the way his voice doesn’t even waver.

Dan pauses mid-click, hands hovering over his keyboard. He glances down at Phil, one eyebrow quirked up. “What, like today?” he says, smiling and turning back to his fact-checking mission.

“Yes,” Phil says. It’s only halfway a joke.

Dan looks over at him again. Phil can see his mind turning, trying to gauge how serious he’s being.

Phil feels very serious. Well, maybe not about the _today_ thing, but.

Some time passes before Dan says, slowly, “Your mum will be mad. You know how much she wants us to have a spring wedding.”

Phil smiles. He does, in fact, know how much his mum wants that.

He must spend too long lost in this thought, because Dan is closing his laptop and shimmying down the bed so that they’re lying face to face. His hand comes up to push a few loose strands of Phil’s hair back into his quiff before settling along his cheek. Phil covers it with his own hand, turns his head to press a kiss into Dan’s palm.

“I’d marry you no matter what season it was,” Dan says. “You know that, right?” He’s whispering.

“I know,” Phil says. He’s whispering, too. Dan’s thumb presses into his smile.

He thought he’d be afraid. That seems ridiculous, now, with Dan looking at him like he hung each and every star in the sky.

“I have something for you,” he says, tightening his grip on Dan’s hand slightly.

“Oh,” Dan breathes out. Phil delights in the way he actually looks a little surprised, a little bewildered. He closes the space between them for just a moment, tasting the sharp bitterness of Dan’s tea before disentangling himself from all the limbs and bedcovers.

He takes the stairs two at a time, half expecting to hear Dan’s heavy footfalls behind him as he opens the door to the office. But there’s only the gentle hum of the idle computer as he pulls the cord container down from where it’s been shoved in the back of the storage cupboard since they moved in. He tosses the useless cords to the side and holds the small velvet box in his hands for a moment, knelt uncomfortably on the floor in the small space.

 _After,_ he thinks. _Now._

When Phil makes it back downstairs, Dan is pretty much exactly where he left him. He looks like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. Phil sits down in the middle of their bed, folding his legs under himself and dropping the box rather unceremoniously onto the duvet. Dan’s eyes track the motion.

“Come here,” Phil says softly when Dan finally meets his eyes again. Dan scrambles out from under the covers and makes himself a home in Phil’s lap. The familiar, solid weight of him calms Phil’s racing pulse a bit, brings everything into focus. He tucks his fingers under the hem of Dan’s jumper, grounding himself against the warm skin there.

He looks up at Dan. Maybe in another life there are words, there are intense declarations of love and devotion, maybe he gets on one knee and later they call his mum to tell her they’ll get married in the spring.

But right now he just wants to look. Wants to adore. Wants to watch the way the love of his life can still blush under his gaze after nine years.

Dan does just that, squirming in Phil’s lap and saying _get on with it, then_ in a voice that wavers with emotion.

“Let me look at you,” Phil implores him. “Want to remember exactly how beautiful you look right now.”

Dan breathes out a laugh, reaching up to swipe at his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he says.

“You love me,” Phil replies, and it’s right that it should be like this, he thinks. They’ve made all their best decisions from their bed. “Marry me.”

Dan thumb traces across his cheek. He feels the minute way his stubble protests the motion, feels the way Dan holds his breath in for a moment.

“In the spring?” Dan asks. They’re whispering again.

Phil nods. “In the spring.”

“Then yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> a concept for your consideration: dan wearing [this ring](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/8a/40/5b/8a405b41e5d4e634e933c0223461407e.jpg)
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here](https://uselessphillie.tumblr.com/post/175445274735/fic-october-to-april) xx


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